


Drunk on You

by Dreaming_in_Circles



Series: Burn Me Like Fire [1]
Category: Chicago Fire
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Car Accidents, Drunken Confessions, Drunkenness, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Major Character Injury, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 08:12:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7500765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreaming_in_Circles/pseuds/Dreaming_in_Circles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Casey had known Severide for a long time, and they’d been friends – maybe best friends – for nearly as long. They stayed in touch even when they were working different houses and their patience paid off when they were assigned head of Truck and Squad at the same house. It was like old times. Until it wasn’t. Casey has gotten a little too drunk, and they're both not nearly as mad at each other as they like to pretend, and Casey may do something he might regret. So, what now?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place beginning of Season 1. After Severide has shoulder problems, before Casey and Hallie get back together.

Casey had known Severide for a long time, and they’d been friends – maybe best friends – for nearly as long. Casey could still remember how they met; the rumors about his mother had been going around the Academy. This was before he picked a fight with Griffin, and people had just started looking at him differently. They hadn’t even been candidates at that time – they were practically kids – and a firefighter’s sense of loyalty beyond all else had yet to be instilled. That wasn’t true of Severide. As all the other firefighter-wannabes drifted away and excluded Casey, Severide and his band pulled him in, made him one of theirs.

After so many years, most of them had fallen out of regular contact. Maybe they’d see each other once or twice a year, grab a bear after shift if they’d worked a call together. But they weren’t close anymore. Casey and Severide, however, were an entirely different story. They stayed in touch even when they were working different houses and their patience paid off when they were assigned head of Truck and Squad at the same house. It was like old times. Until it wasn’t.

Loss was a hard thing for anyone to weather and the guilt eating away at both Casey and Severide made them bitter and mean, to everyone in general, but especially to each other. Both of them stayed up at night wondering what they could have done differently, if anything would have mattered. The loss weighed heavily on their shoulders, and the whole house felt it. But instead of bringing them together, it started tearing new and painful holes in their friendship and camaraderie. The one thing Casey had thought was indestructible.

Casey was at home after a particularly bad shift between him and Severide. He was gulping down beer, already past tipsy and aiming for completely hammered. If anyone had been brave enough to ask him why he felt so completely miserable, like the weight of the world was sitting in his chest, and he had been drunk enough to be honest, he still wouldn’t have been able to answer them. He was pretty sure it had something to do with Severide: the weight of the world seemed to grow every shift as the air between them remained choppy and thick. But hell if Casey was going to admit that. It was unbelievably frustrating to be unable to pin the emotions down and kill the behavior, the irritability, and the aggression. It had moved beyond annoying; it was effecting his job, and it had to stop.

Casey pushed himself off the couch where he’d been slumped and wound his way over to the cabinet where he kept the hard liquor. He yanked open the door and let his eyes wander over the options; beer wasn’t getting him drunk fast enough.

Casey took one look at the unopened whiskey bottle, forwent a glass, and cracked the seal. He was only two swallows in when his moody silence was ruptured by a sudden, incessant pounding on his door. Casey considered ignoring it, twisting around to stare at the wooden door ponderously. The pounding continued, and Casey decided he was not drunk enough for that shit. He pushed himself off the couch and wandered over to the door, leaving the bottle on the coffee table.

He’d only opened the door a foot before Severide’s determined and gritty face swung into view. Severide opened his mouth like he was going to say something and, without pause, Casey moved to slam the door in his face. Severide saw it coming and jammed his foot between the door and the frame. Casey sneered angrily – he was not in the mood for one of Severide’s impassioned lectures – and shoved the door again, trying to dislodge the foot. Severide pushed back harder, shoving Casey out of the way and slamming the door into the wall. They both stared at it for a moment, the plasterboard crunched where the handle had hit it, a light dust falling to the floor.

“You’re gonna pay f’ that,” Casey mumbled before stalking back to the coffee table where he left the whiskey. He could feel Severide’s eyes following him back, roaming around the room and undoubtedly taking in the week-old take-out containers and numerous beer bottles.

The door slammed shut, and Severide’s heavy footsteps followed Casey into the house. Casey resisted the urge to grit his teeth, wishing he’d never answered the door, and brought the whiskey bottle to his lips.

The glass bottle was suddenly ripped from his hands, alcohol spilling onto Casey’s face, shirt, and the floor. Casey sputtered in surprise, muttering something Severide would have called a curse if he hadn’t known any better. Casey ran a hand over his face, wiping off some of the excess liquid. The look he gave Severide would have sent entire armies running in fear. Severide didn’t even blink.

“You should know better,” he finally said, gesturing with the whiskey bottle. Casey rolled his eyes.

“I’ll be sure to consult you the next time I wanna have a drink,” Casey spit back. “What’re you doin’ here?”

Severide stated at him for a long minute, and Casey’s anger continued to grow at the stupid mind game he thought Severide was playing. He was simultaneously too drunk and not drunk enough for that shit.

“I came to bury the hatchet, Matt,” Severide finally responded, his voice quiet and tone mellow. Casey’s entire train of ugly thought halted in a messy wreck.

“What?” Casey asked hoarsely, not believing he understood Severide correctly. Severide only shook his head.

“You’re clearly not ready to move on, so forget it.” He took a swig from the whiskey bottle, set it back on the coffee table, and started for the door.

Casey seemed incapable of thinking as he watched Severide’s retreating figure. He needed to say something, anything, to get Sev to stop, turn around, understand he didn’t mean a word of it, _I swear-_

The slam of the door shook Casey’s bones and forced him to finally move. He had to stop Severide. With that singular thought in mind, Casey rushed forward, tripping over his own two feet, and nearly face-planted into the doorway. He wrenched the door back open and searched the street frantically. He spotted Severide crossing the street, where the man’s leather jacket stared Casey down as Severide marched away, and Casey propelled himself off the porch so quickly he left the front door hanging wide open.

“Sev! Kelly!” Casey yelled, probably louder than was strictly necessary.

Severide stopped and turned halfway to face Casey. “What?”

Casey nearly ran – nearly – to Severide. He had no idea what to say, no idea what to do. The alcohol was starting to take effect, and he could feel his balance going; he was pretty sure his inhibitions were already gone.

Casey stopped a hairs breath away from Severide, grabbed his face, and crushed their lips together. It was the sloppiest, messiest, and most inelegant kiss he had ever given, and he was convinced he was about to get punched by Severide any second, but it was still worth it.

Severide didn’t go stiff under Casey, or push him away. His big hands came up to frame Casey’s face, pull him closer and hold him tight. Severide brought a little finesse to the kiss, slowed it down and refined it. Casey moaned as Severide’s tongue pushed against his, and he pushed into Kelly’s body. It was cold out, and he only had a t-shirt and jeans on, but Kelly was so warm as he wrapped an arm around Casey’s shoulders, pushed the other hand into his hair. Casey had no idea how long they were standing there – it could have been a minute, it could have been a millennium. The alcohol probably had something to do with that, but Casey just felt so damn happy. And aroused.

“Get a room, you fuckin’ faggots!” someone yelled from a window in one of the other houses on the street. Severide pulled away and looked up angrily as the voice continued. “Don’t want you kissing in the fuckin’ street!”

“Fuck off!” Severide yelled and kissed Casey once more as if to make a point.

“Fuck you!” the man yelled back. Severide pulled away and flipped the guy off, but wrapped an arm around Casey’s shoulders again and propelled them in the direction of the house. Casey watched the whole thing in giddy, light-headed amusement.

They climbed the stairs to Casey’s front door with Severide’s solid arm around his shoulders, and Casey was grateful – otherwise he was sure he would have fallen over. He could feel the alcohol really starting to kick in. Severide gave him a look about the open door, but thankfully it seemed none of the neighbors had noticed. Severide made sure to close and lock it behind them.

The instant the lock clicked closed, Casey was on top of Severide again, kissing him with slightly more control but no less passion. Severide tried to move them down the hall and up the stairs, and Casey tripped over his own two feet the second time that night. He managed to nearly pull Severide down with him until he regained his balance and caught Casey.

“Sorry,” Casey muttered, then giggled slightly ridiculously. “’m clumsy.”

“You’re drunk,” Severide responded. He took another hard look around the room, taking in the numerous beer bottles again. “C’mon.”

Severide half-walked, half-dragged Casey upstairs to the bedroom - somehow managing not to fall back down - and deposited him on the bed, but stayed standing himself. Severide could practically see the wheels turning in Casey’s head as he realized what was going on. It was a novel experience even for Severide; Casey normally never let anyone see what he was thinking.

“Sev-“ Casey started to whine, but Severide was having none of it.

“Go ta sleep, Casey,” he interrupted, firmly but not unkindly. Casey groaned and dropped his head onto the pillow. Severide watched him for a few minutes, but it was clear the moment his head hit the pillow, Casey was out cold. Severide sighed; Casey’d been more drunk than he’d looked. It would probably be a minor miracle if he remembered any of the night’s events in the morning.

Severide wandered downstairs again and briefly entertained the idea of staying the night. He would be able to make sure Casey got up in the morning, drank plenty of fluids, didn’t choke on his own vomit, all that. But if Casey really didn’t remember any of the night, he’d wonder what Severide was doing there in the first place. And if he did remember-

Severide shook his head. He choose to forgo the awkward option and let himself out, borrowing Casey’s extra key to lock the door behind him.

Severide didn’t see Casey again until two days later when the next shift started. He came in a little early to get some paperwork done, and found Casey already in his office, doing the same thing. It did not surprise him in the slightest.

“Hey.” Severide leaned on Casey’s doorframe. When he looked up, Casey seemed tired, with dark circles under his eyes and tension in his shoulders.

“I borrowed a key,” Severide continued before Casey could say anything. He’d decided – for lack of a better idea – that a direct approach was the best approach. He held it up so Casey could see, then tossed it to him.

Casey caught it with ease, then gave it a befuddled look. “When’d you borrow it? Wednesday night?”

“It was probably closer to Thursday morning,” Severide joked. “You were pretty outta it.”

Casey nodded. He had that shocked, deer-in-the-headlights look that he so often got when he wasn’t sure of himself. “I didn’t embarrass you, did I?”

Severide paused at the question. It was just ambiguous enough that, theoretically, Casey could still not remember what they did that night. Somehow, though, with the look of almost-terror on Casey’s face and the tension that suddenly filled the room, Severide suspected Casey knew exactly what had happened. That meant whatever Severide did next would change everything.

“No,” he said, and if his tone was casual, his body language was anything but. He pushed himself off the wall in a slow and languid movement, and turned to sit against Casey’s desk. “Not at all.”

Casey didn’t take his eyes off Severide as he moved. His expression was carefully schooled, and Severide couldn’t tell what Casey was thinking anymore. Without the alcohol in his system, Casey was as completely closed up as always, and Severide made the decision that he wasn’t going to let that stop them.

He glanced back out at the bunks – still empty, though he was very aware that could change at any moment – and then leaned forward, grabbing Casey’s neck with one hand and pulled him into a kiss. For a nanosecond Casey didn’t move and Severide didn’t breathe. Then Casey relaxed slightly and opened his mouth under Severide’s, pushing back a little. Severide had a fleeting thought of _perfection_ roll through his head before he forced himself to pull away.

He sat back up and furtively checked the bunks again to make sure no one saw. He had no idea how many rules they were currently breaking, but the number had to be up there.

Casey cleared his throat uncomfortably and shifted in his seat. Severide smirked down at him.

“What? Thought I’d forget about it?” He had almost done just that, but Casey didn’t need to know that right then.

“Yes,” Casey half-growled, half-whined, and Severide had never seen him look quite like that before. There was a flush on his cheeks and his body was tense. He looked torn. “I didn’t hear from you for two days.”

Severide didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t start a fight, so he leaned down and kissed Casey again, short and quick. “Still want me to pay for the wall?”

Casey smiled crookedly and relaxed a little more. “No, but you can help me fix it.”

Severide nodded and smirked. “Okay. Your place, after shift.”

Casey nodded in agreement. “Okay.” His voice was breathless, and Severide’s breath caught in his throat at the implications alone.

“Okay,” he repeated, and it seemed to be the only thing he could say. They stared at each other for a few more seconds, and Severide was almost convinced Casey was going to kiss him again when the doors to the bunks came flying open.

“Alright! Let’s get this shift started!” Herrmann yelled at the top of his lungs as he barged in, Mouch just behind him. “Hey,” he added, as he saw Casey and Severide. “You guys are here early.”

“Just wrapping up some paperwork,” Severide dismissed the comment. He vaulted off Casey’s desk and walked back to his office as casually as he could. 

“Yeah, sure; the officers are just holding a private little meeting without us,” Herrmann grouched as he arranged his stuff on the bunkside table.

“Probably planning our next drill,” Mouch agreed, and Severide looked through the glass to see Casey smiling in his office.

It started out as a busy shift, and Casey didn’t get the chance to talk to Severide in private for the rest of the day. They both had a number of calls they responded to, individually and together, and it kept them busy until late that night. Casey was about ready to pass out from exhaustion; it’d been a long day, and he hadn’t exactly gotten a lot of sleep the night before shift.

The guys had already started dropping off to sleep, and Casey had pulled the blinds and pushed the door mostly closed to block his light. The one thing he could rely on as a lieutenant was the never ending paperwork. Someone pushed the door open slightly and Casey looked up in time to see Severide slip in before quickly shutting it with a quiet click behind him.

“Hey,” Severide whispered, and Casey couldn’t stop his small smile in return as Severide settled on the edge of his desk again.

“Hey.” Casey frowned slightly at Severide’s expression. “What’s goin’ on?”

Severide slid down Casey’s desk, pushing papers out of the way, until he was perched between Casey’s legs. “First chance I get ta talk to you all day; think I’m gonna pass that up?” He grinned and cupped Casey’s face with his hands. Casey lifted his chin and closed his eyes as Severide slid his thumbs under Casey’s jaw. He could feel Casey’s breath as he exhaled slowly.

“We shouldn’t do this,” Casey muttered, and damn, Severide could _feel_ his voice as it vibrated in his throat. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Casey’s jaw, inched lower trailing kisses down Casey’s neck. Casey had one hand perched tentatively in Severide’s hair; the other had a death grip on Severide’s arm. Severide unbuttoned the two buttons Casey had done on his polo and nuzzled it off his shoulder as much as he could, sucking a soft bruise onto Casey’s collarbone and relishing in the feeling of Casey’s moan as it reverberated around his chest. His grip in Severide’s hair tightened and Casey pulled him up for a proper kiss.

They barely touched before the alarm sounded. Casey didn’t dare to breathe as they stopped to listen to the announcement.

“…Squad 3. Truck 81…”

Casey was already starting to stand to respond when Severide grabbed his face and kissed him fiercely. He pulled back and stared at Casey for a moment before slapping his shoulder, pushing off the desk, and yanking the door open. Casey followed, eyes glued to Severide’s back. _It’ll be fine_ , he told himself. It was just a car accident. _Everything will be fine._

The wreck wasn’t pretty by any means, but it was far from the worst they had ever seen. It was clear from the beginning the SUV had t-boned the convertible at high enough speeds to flip the tiny car. Casey pointed Severide and the rest of rescue to the convertible; there wasn’t any smoke there, though the SUV was dripping gasoline ominously. The teams split up, Herrmann and Mouch wrenching the door of the SUV open just as the engine started to seriously smoke.

“Cruz! Get an extinguisher on that!” Casey ordered as he and Otis yanked the driver out of the cab. The man was completely wasted and smelled like a back alley downtown. “Arrest this asshole,” Casey growled at the nearest cop, and pushed the man in her direction.

“I hate mooks like that,” Herrmann rumbled unhappily next to Casey as they turned to watch Squad pull a boy – barely 16 – out of the other car. “God, I hope that kid’s okay.” Casey could only nod as he watched Dawson and Shay wheel him away.

“Alright, pack it up!” the Chief yelled. “Cops’ll handle the scene!” The ambulance siren turned on and the truck pulled away for the hospital.

“I got no problem with that,” Herrmann added happily as they wandered back to truck.

“Doesn’t that seem a little too easy to anyone?” Mills asked, only to be met with a furry of shushes and swears.

“I swear to God Mills, don’t jinx the job! Don’t do it!” Herrmann howled, and Mouch shook his head grievously.

“Rule number one, Candidate,” Otis added wisely.

They were interrupted by the sudden sound of squealing tires, and someone shouted something that sounded suspiciously like “Lieutenant!” before Casey heard something heavy hit the front of a car. Casey felt like he couldn’t breathe as he turned. A prone form in a firefighter’s uniform lay in a dent in a broken car windshield. The car door opened and a woman stepped out, shouting hysterically, something about not having seen him, but Casey wasn’t listening. He charged toward the car even as Squad raced back to their lieutenant.

“Severide!” Casey yelled. Part of him needed to know how bad it was; part of him couldn’t bear to find out. “Kelly!”

He could hear Boden calling for a second ambo, but all he could see was the blood on Kelly’s head, the awkward angle of his leg. Possible concussion, definite broken leg, ribs were probably cracked at least if the ruined windshield was anything to go by, the whole damn shoulder might be shot-

“Get the medkit from Squad!” Casey yelled, and saw Cap jump to comply out of the corner of his eye. “Get me a backboard!”

They needed to get him flat on his back, his feet elevated if it really was a concussion. They needed to fucking wake him up.

“Kelly. Kelly, you gotta fucking listen to me, man,” Casey pleaded, and then there was a bright yellow backboard, and they were turning him, lifting him onto the board and that woke him up screaming. All Casey wanted to do was stop; he could feel the panic eating away at his chest. This wasn’t the first tine Severide had been hurt on a call, but it was one of the worse times, and the first time Casey had ever had to do something about it.

“Kelly! It’s okay; you’re gonna be okay, just don’t move,” Casey begged Kelly, the universe, and God if there was one as he grabbed Kelly’s head and used his helmet light to check on pupil dilation. They shrunk, but it looked a little slow. Or maybe Casey was just being oversensitive. He couldn’t tell.

“Here’s the medkit,” Cap yelled as he dropped to his knees next to Casey.

“Gimme the gauze,” Casey demanded, and Cap responded instantly. “I think his right leg’s broken. Check it out and get a splint on it.” Casey continued and Cap was back on his feet and moving in nanoseconds. Casey was vaguely aware of the rest of Squad moving around him, elevating Kelly’s legs, checking his ribs, arm, shoulder. “What’s the ETA on that ambo?!” Casey yelled to no one in particular.

“Three minutes out,” Chief Boden answered from behind Casey. “How bad is he?”

Casey didn’t turn around, just pressed more gauze to the head wound as it refused to stop bleeding. Head wounds bled a lot, Casey reminded himself; this was normal. “Not great, Chief. We need to get him to Med now.”

“Roger that,” Chief responded, and if he heard the edge of desperation in Casey’s voice he didn’t bat an eyelid at it.

Casey took a deep breath to steady his nerves, and grabbed Kelly’s face with his free hand. The juxtaposition from just a half hour ago was not lost on him. “Kelly. I need you to listen to me. You’ve probably got a concussion, so you need to stay awake. Got it?”

Kelly’s eyes blinked twice and he mumbled something too quiet and unintelligible for Casey to make out. It was a reaction, which was something, Casey told himself. But it wasn’t exactly a great reaction.

“I thought you were made outta tougher stuff than that,” Casey joked, and his voice only cracked a little. Kelly’s eyes were drifting closed and Casey felt the panic lurch into his throat. “C’mon man, you’re not gonna quit on the job, are ya?”

Kelly opened his eyes and muttered something Casey couldn’t hear.

“What’d you say?” he asked breathlessly, and leaned in closer to hear better.

“Said ‘fuck you,’” Kelly whispered back, his voice hoarse and strained, but God it was good to hear.

Sirens drowned out whatever else Kelly wanted to say, and it was mere seconds before the two paramedics took over. Casey and Squad helped lift Kelly onto the stretcher, and then had to stand back and watch as he was wheeled away into the ambo.

“Chief,” Casey said immediately, turning to Boden with wide eyes.

“Go with ‘im Casey,” Boden said before Casey could get another word out. “We’ll join you after shift.”

Casey barely had time to breathe his thanks before he was running to catch the ambulance before it left, jumping into the back and perching on the edge of the bench.

“How is-“ he started to the paramedic, somebody whose name he didn’t know.

“Shut up and let me work,” she snapped back, not sparing Casey a look as she started an IV. Kelly was already on oxygen, and she seemed competent enough that Casey was willing, if not necessarily content, to let her work in tense silence.


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing Severide knew was his head hurt. And wherever he was, it was loud. Something kept beeping, and lots of people kept talking, some were crying, some were yelling. That was in the background, but it was definitely there.

Severide tried to take a deep breath, but he didn’t get very far before his ribs started to ache, and he exhaled on a groan. Head and chest both hurt. _Great._

“Kelly?” It was Matt’s voice; the worried tone he reserved for when someone got into deep shit and he wasn’t sure things would turn out okay. Hearing his name said in that tone of voice convinced Severide to wake himself up a little more. He cracked his eyes open, but the room was way too bright, and he found he didn’t have the energy to lift his hand to shield them.

“Kelly?” Matt asked again, and Severide could feel Matt’s hand against his cheek. It was warm and calloused from work; it was nice. “C’mon Kelly, talk to me.”

Kelly turned his head with some gentle assistance from Matt and found the light was a little more bearable when it wasn’t shining directly in his eyes. He could also see Matt from that angle. He looked exhausted, perched on the edge of a shitty hospital chair and-

_Shit._

“What’d you take me t’the hospital for?” Kelly mumbled, and Matt made a noise that was somewhere between a sob and a laugh.

“You got hit by a car,” Matt told him bluntly, and Kelly blinked. He racked his brain, tried to remember the last call, or did it happen off duty, maybe that was more likely, or-

“Oh.” It came back in a flash; the accident, the kid they pulled from the crushed convertible, trying to get back to Squad and the damn car that came out of nowhere.

“Yeah,” Matt breathed quietly. His expression was pure sorrow.

“’m I okay?” Kelly breathed. His stomach did a few flops for good measure. Between his back and maybe remembering Matt saying something about a concussion on scene, he was terrified of the answer.

“Yer gonna be fine!” Herrmann exclaimed loudly from the doorway, and Matt ripped his hand off Kelly’s face like he’d been burned. Kelly forced himself to ignore it and turned to face his visitors.

“Hey guys,” he said as loud as he could, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t much more than a whisper. If that was true, Herrmann blew right by it, grinning and settling into the only other chair in the room. Mouch, Chief, Dawson, Shay, and a couple others filed in behind him, relieved smiles on their faces.

“Severide,” the Chief greeted him hoarsely.

“How long have I been out?” Kelly asked; everyone was clearly off duty, and looked almost as bad as Matt.

“Almost 36 hours,” Shay responded. “We were gettin’ worried about you.”

“Eh. You know me. Like to take my time,” Kelly joked, and the room let out a collective, relieved chuckle. They lapsed into an awkward silence, and Kelly tried to ignore how Matt was staring at him.

“So give it to me straight,” Kelly continued. “Am I going to live?” It was meant as a joke, but Kelly couldn’t ignore the way Matt’s brow furrowed.

“Well, let’s take a look at your chart here,” Mouch stated somewhat pompously, pulling the clipboard off the end of Kelly’s bed.

“And?” Herrmann prompted a few seconds later. “What’s it say?”

Mouch cleared his throat nervously, and Kelly smirked as he recognized Mouch’s tell. “Well, you see-“

“Oh, gimme that,” Shay finally snapped, ripping the clipboard from Mouch’s hands and slapping it against Dawson’s chest next to her.

“What?!” Dawson squawked in surprise. “Why’re you handing _me_ this?”

“Because you’re the only one here who’s taken med classes.”

“ _Pre_ -med classes-“

“Read the damn chart Dawson.”

Gabby sneered at Shay, but righted the clipboard in her hands and looked down at it. A few seconds later she flipped to the second page.

“We-ell?” Herrmann prompted, drawn out and clearly impatient.

“Um,” she stalled, then folded the first page down and looked up. “I think they were mostly worried about your spine. And your concussion,” she added as an afterthought. “They’ll probably want to keep you for observation, but they set your leg and the outcome looks positive. I think.”

Herrmann made a face. “Okay. I can live with that.”

“That’s great, but the question is can _Kelly_ live with that,” Shay shot back and everyone laughed again. Kelly winced as the laughter caused his ribs to hurt again, and he felt his eyelids getting heavy. It didn’t go unnoticed by Chief Boden.

“Let’s give Severide room to rest up,” he rumbled, and made quick work of rounding everyone up and getting them out of the room. Matt lingered a second longer at Kelly’s bedside, offering a bad fake smile before he turned to leave. Kelly tried to grab his wrist, but his arms still weren’t cooperating.

“Matt,” he croaked, and the other man practically leapt back to his side.

“Yeah?”

“Doc said I’m gonna be okay?” Matt looked simultaneously relieved and also…disappointed? Kelly wasn’t sure.

“Yeah, Kelly. The doctor said you’ll be fine. You shouldn’t have to worry about your back at all anymore. Though,” Matt’s lips twisted into a grimace. “She said this operation was way overdue.” There was a long, unhappy silence.

“Yeah, well,” Kelly cleared his throat and grimaced again. Matt winced. “Whatever.”

“Whatever,” Matt repeated, his face incredulous.

“Yeah. Whatever.” Kelly did his best approximation of a shrug and mentally stopped himself from grimacing. “’m still here, aren’t I?” Matt shook his head, but couldn’t stop breaking into a crooked grin, and Kelly smiled with him. Matt’s hand wrapped around the side of Kelly’s face again, and Kelly turned his head gently to nuzzle it and press a kiss to the palm, still sweaty from where he guessed Matt had been clenching it. He couldn’t care in the least.

“Get some rest,” Matt said, and Kelly rolled his eyes. “I mean it.”

“Whatever,” Kelly responded, and Matt snorted but still left. Kelly closed his eyes, and was out like a light. He would never admit it, though.

**Author's Note:**

> SO! This is probably the cheesiest and silliest thing I have ever posted to this website. And cliché. It’s cliché. But it was all I could seem to write. I’ve had major writer’s block for months now, and I needed to get over it, and this is all that would come while I was wasting away from boredom at work. So this is what you got. Also, the Chicago Fire fandom is way too small, and the Casey/Severide ship needs so much more love. So I felt a double need to post it.  
> In addition to all that (perhaps appropriately so), the title has probably been done a million times over, for money and not, so credit goes to whoever you know that said it. Otherwise, copyright me 2016.  
> IF people were interested in more, I could possibly be persuaded/bribed into doing so. Drop me a comment and we can talk.  
> I hope you enjoyed it. Don’t be afraid to comment; I don’t bite. I'd love to hear what you thought. Send good writing vibes my way please.


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